L's Notes
by drueydue12
Summary: The one case L couldn't solve is now in the hands of his successor, Near. Without hesitation, Near takes on a case that puzzled L for over a decade. Now, tracking down a killer L called, Chaos, Near must work with Chaos's only surviving victim, who L was working with before being enthralled in the Kira case. "Sense," L stated, "is your only key to Chaos."
1. Chapter 1

_***I do not own anything as fantastically created such as Death Note by**_** writer****Tsugumi Ohba****and manga artist****Takeshi Obata****. I do not own any of the characters or plot. Please enjoy the fanfic! **

"Near!"

He waited until he had carefully stood the paper crane he had been folding upon his desk before he answered. "What is it, Rester?"

The commander really had no choice but to descend the stairs from the balcony and meet with Near on the bottom level. It would be a pain to maneuver through the countless paper cranes littered throughout the room but what he had he needed to show to be understood. Carefully watching his shoes tip and toe over paper in multiple colors and patterns, he finally found Near in the middle working on yet another paper figure.

"Rester," Near acknowledged, not taking his eyes off his project.

"Sir, I just received something from Whammy's House. Roger says it's from Watari."

This caused Near to stop his fingers from working. "Watari? Well, what is it?"

Rester handed over a manila envelope. Near pinched it between his fingers and laid it down on top of his origami folding. Interlocking a finger in between one of the many strands of hair covering his pale face, Near swiftly dumped the contents of the envelope out onto the floor.

"A folder," Rester commented aloud. "L's Notes."

Near eyed the inscription on the folder carefully. A folder entitled L's Notes. His heart took on an unnatural beat as he flipped the folder open.

"Ugh," Rester breathed before taking a step back. What he saw made his blood run cold. The folder was a two pocketed three ring. Whatever lay in the left pocket was immediately overlooked as the picture clasped in the three rings grabbed and tortured his eyes. "What is this?"

"A picture of a naked female body with her neck slit and her body painted," Near stated. He then flipped the page to a similar photo but of a different female. He kept flipping until he came to the end. _Twenty three women_, he noted silently.

Rester kept his face stoic but his fists were visibly clinched at his sides. He had watched Near flip through the photos as if he were going through one of his picture books of origami. He couldn't decide if this impressed or scared him.

Near, having flipped through the pictures a second time, decided to pay attention to what lay in the pockets of the folder. He immediately found and pulled out a CD and handed it to Rester who silently understood to play it.

Flicking on one of the monitors in their lab, Near and Rester watched as the letter L appeared on the screen and a voice addressed them. Near's body seized on instinct as he listened to his mentor's natural voice come through the screen. He had been expecting the familiar robotic medium L spoke through.

"I've made this CD in hopes that it would never be played. You see if this disk is being played then it means that I am no longer living. I'm not particularly angered by being dead but I have business that needs to be finished before I can rest peacefully. If such a state exists. I'm still debating that."

Silence followed but not for long as Near and Rester each recognized the sound of lips decided to flip through the photos again while Rester tried his best not to cringe as the smacking sounds got louder.

"Mmmmm. Op. So as I was saying. I'm dead and can no longer continue working on the case I'm sure you see before you. Those photos are of violent murders that have taken place for over a decade."

"A decade?" Near questioned aloud.

"Yes." L continued. "I know you're wondering why or how I haven't solved a case of this severity. The most simplest answer?... I'm stumped."

Near stopped flipping the photos, staring hard at nothing in particular.

"I've been on this case for nearly a decade and I've yet to decipher a code or develop a theory with any real weight to it. As you see from the photos, the only thing the victims have in common is that they are women. They have been sexually violated, painted, either one breast or both have been removed or left alone and of course the bodies are displayed in some sort of peculiar position. You'll see in my notes my thoughts on this but before that, I want you to turn to the last photo."

Near did so and waited.

"This picture is the only one that has not been painted or killed in the similar fashion as the previous ones. I've arranged the photos from the first victim to the most recent. This last victim, as you can see, was dismembered and then crudely nailed in pieces to the wall."

L's voice stopped and Near continued to let his eyes trace over the photo beneath him. He would agree it was the more gruesome of the photos. Pieces of a body nailed to the wall, an image of a body torn apart.

"There's a photo missing by the way," L's tone had taken on hint of playfulness to it that made Near perk and Rester frown. "Look in the right pocket and pull out the white envelope."

Near quickly found it.

"Now open it and take out all the photos."

Rester couldn't help but notice how human Near looked as he dropped his usual mechanic mannerisms to hastily open the envelope. He could tell that the usual stoic twenty one year old was intrigued. In the few years they had been together, Rester had seen Near solve cases of murder, extreme theft, and espionage without the slightest trace of emotion, save for the occasional smirk.

The pictures dropped onto the floor and Near quickly set to work in arranging them.

"The first you should notice is the one that resembles the other victims. A woman, throat slashed, naked and painted, positioned."

Near recognized the photo but couldn't help but disagree that it wasn't of a woman but of a girl. He flipped the photo over and quickly discerned the number fourteen to be the girl's age.

"Even though her throat was slashed and her body appearing lifeless, this girl was not number twenty four for the killer I have decided to call, Chaos. Despite being announced to the media and being removed from society only by her name, this girl, I call Sense, is the only survivor and what I believe to be the only key to stopping Chaos."

"Now I know I am going to die but I'm not exactly sure when. Last time I spoke with Sense she was sixteen and asking permission to return to university. She's been heavily guarded throughout the years and will remain so even after my death. My legacy funds her protection. If you look at the other photos I'm sure you will see how much she's changed over the years and what her current age is."

Near quickly arranged the photos in chronological order and stopped at the number nine. "She twenty two years old," he commented. Just one year older than himself. Near picked up the most recent photo. He couldn't immediately guess her race but he felt her long heavy brown hair which covered her eyes probably made her blend back into whatever society she wanted to be a part of. He noticed the scarf around her neck was present in every photo, sans the one of her at fourteen. She probably never left the house without it tied into place.

"Everything I know is in the folder. There's not much else I can tell you except that you will be solving something I could not. Chaos is aware of my presence and from what I can tell, he was extremely intuitive as to what I was looking at and for. Your only key now is Sense. My advice is to face her directly. She'll be weary of you contacting her any other way and I haven't made any arrangements that she will be informed of my death. I'd rather she knew that someone else was on her case before she accepts that I will no longer be chasing Chaos.

"She's extremely perceptive despite appearing scared and vulnerable to people. I've had her trained to defend herself so be cautious, Near."

Near's eyes flickered towards the screen for the first time to look at the monogrammed L. The screen went blank and Rester retrieved the CD.

"A new case?" Rester questioned.

"Of course," Near replied. "I want Linder and Gevanni as well as four others."

"Any one specific."

"Yes. I see from L's notes that there are four other FBI agents and a doctor that are aware of Sense. I want the four FBI agents as soon as possible." Near found a sticky note signed by Watari on one of the papers he pulled from the folder. He smirked. He now had a location for Sense.

"She's in America," Near stated. "I guess we'll be traveling, Rester."

"I'll make the arrangements."

(Coming Soon, Chapter II: Sense (A flashback to the girl Sense and her encounter with the world's best detective.))


	2. Chapter 2

_***I do not own anything as fantastically created such as Death Note by**_** writer****Tsugumi Ohba****and manga artist****Takeshi Obata****. I do not own any of the characters or plot. Please enjoy the fanfic! **

Chapter II: Sense

I can't see. Am I blind? No. My eyes are covered. Bandaged? My arm feels raw when I raise it to touch the bindings around my head. Not only are my eyes bandaged but it feels as if my entire head has been mummified.

My hand travels down and I feel the same bandages encasing my neck. The rawness in my arm fades. My skin prickles in relief. My throat? Why is it bandaged? The answer comes to me in a second. That's right. It was slashed. Not slit. Slashed. My throat was slashed.

I can see the spikes in the knife grasped tightly in his hand. I try to get more from the scene, from the picture emerging in my mind but it starts to fade. I open my mouth but before I can test just how damaged I am, I feel the tip of a finger on my lips.

"Don't speak. Any stress on the cords and they'll rupture. Any chance of you ever speaking again will be out of my ability to fix."

I don't recognize the voice. I think whatever caused the rawness to fade is also causing the cooling sensation to spread in my chest. I'm terrified but only in my head. My body is going completely numb. Despite the fear, I listen to his advice and try to relax the muscles in my throat.

I'm hoping that he might tell me where I am. What's happened, but I don't even think he's still in the room at this point as it's returned to the icy silence it was when I awakened. Room. I'm in a room. I don't know how I know this but I can feel that I'm somewhere enclosed. Four walls. A door. I can feel them. I'm hurt but I'm reluctant to say I'm in a hospital. It just feels wrong to even think it. No. I am not in a hospital.

The seconds or hours tick and I'm thinking about risking my throat being ruptured. I can't stand waiting in silence and the hysteria in my head is building. I need to know. But it's as if someone is reading my thoughts cause within seconds I feel my brain start to lag and the cooling sensation has entered my head. I'm drifting into the darkness rather than floating above it.

The next time I wake I can see the light from underneath my eyelids. I open them sluggishly, cautious of the light that's stinging them. How long have I been unable to use them?

"Dim the lights. She's struggling."

I jerk at the sound of a voice and the intensity of the light lessens. It helps only a little but at least I can make out the shapes of the room. Instinctively, I check the side of the bed and see my glasses lying on a medical stand.

They've been fixed, I realize before slipping them on. One of the nose grips that went missing years ago has been replaced and the cracked right lens has been mended.

There are two of them. Neither look like doctors, dressed in matching black suits. FBI, I sense, or something like that. I was right about the room. This isn't a hospital. It has the bed and supplies found in a hospital but everything is metal. The walls, the floor. I try to guess the practicality of it all but no matter what I think, it just doesn't make sense. I see that that the only window in the room is what the men are leaning up against. It reflecting back my image and I was my hand touch the bandages around my throat.

"Don't speak," the man on the right warns. He points towards the bottom of my bed and I see a mini dry white board with a marker.

I carefully bend my torso and outstretch my fingers. It's just enough to grip the edge of the board and drag it closer. As I pull the cap off the marker, I press the tip to the board and stop. It feels like a million questions are swirling in my head. I don't know where to begin. I glance back up at the men. Their eyes are shielded by their sunglasses but I can tell their pupils are fixated on the board. I start moving the marker, starting with the basics.

_Not a hospital. Where am I? _

Neither of them responds to what I've written so I quickly wipe it out with my forearm and start with the next.

_Did you catch him? _

"No," the same man who warned me earlier answers. He doesn't elaborate further than this so I wipe and try another question.

_Why am I here? _No answer. Wipe, try again.

_My roommate? Ok? _When they don't answer this I get frustrated and throw the marker at the tinted window. Neither of them flinches. I toss the board next and it clatters harshly on the floor. I don't see why they even gave it to me in the first place if they weren't even going to communicate back to me.

The questions, even though they've gone unanswered, are still swirling in my head. I feel the anxiety start to build and the panic in my chests manifests into some kind of knot. I can't stand lying there. I can't stand the metal walls. I keep seeing my throat being slashed. I keep hearing my roommate's screams. I want answers. I want out of the bed. The panic is too much to keep in so I open my mouth and very foolishly try to yell.

I feel threads being pulled a part. They're being ripped from the pressure. I put my hand to my throat and the blood has drenched my fingers. My head starts to fall back and I can hear the flesh tearing as my neck splits open.

…

"Why did you send those two in there?" Detective H asked his partner. They both watched the scene from the other side of the tinted window. Although Detective H held his composure, his partner of four years couldn't quite keep the shiver out of his tone.

"I didn't want to go in there without you. Ah, uh, and, and, I didn't think she'd wake again so soon." Detective M watched the doctors sedate and re-stitch the victim. "I can't believe she did that. She was warned that she could possibly lose her voice altogether. Poor girl."

"I'm going to contact him. He needs to know what happened and that she's lucid."

"Him?" M inquired. "You mean Watari?"

"Yes." Detective H. left the watch room and entered another where only a computer set upon the table occupied the room.

He opened the laptop and pressed one letter on the keyboard. He instantly received a response.

"Yes?" The robotic voice inquired and with that H detailed the last four hours.

…

Watari closed the laptop, took a moment to gather his thoughts, and then went to address his master. Grapping a tray loaded with sweets, he made three quick raps upon the door before he entered.

"Sir," he announced and acknowledged his master who was currently stacking up his unused sugar cubes for his tea.

"Yes, Watari."

"Sir, the girl has awakened."

"Is she talking, mmmmm, no wait of course she isn't. Is she using that dry erase board I sent her?"

"No, sir. It seems the agents in her room frustrated her with their inability to answer and she reopened her throat wound when she tried to yell at them."

"Tried to yell at them." The tired eyed man mused. "Even though she knows it could permanently cost her a voice. Well, the speculative voice. She only has a rough twenty percent chance of ever speaking vocally again and that just decreased by at least five."

Watari set the tray of sweets in front of him and within minutes only half of them remained. "Watari, I want a laptop placed inside her room."

"Sir?" Watari grew hesitant, realizing what his master was planning.

"If those agents won't answer her questions. I will. I have no problems telling her anything and everything she could possibly want to know."

"Do you think that wise, sir. To let even more people know of your existence?"

"Hmmm. I've been thinking and I need to interact with her directly to see for myself. I see no other way in getting the results I need. Mmmmm yom," he obnoxiously smacked his lips as he licked his fingers clean.

"I'll make the arrangements," Watari informed before slipping out the room.

…

I opened my eyes but I was in no mood to be awake. I'm almost tempted to fake a fit so I came be sedated but something catches my eye in the dimly lit room. It's a laptop, opened and sitting on a stand right next to the bed. The screen's black but I can see from the green light that the webcam is on. I'm being watched.

I glance around the room, without getting up, to find it empty. Good. They've chosen to watch me from afar. Watch me? My eyes snap back to the laptop which is no longer a blank screen but a grey one with a big letter L on it.

"I see that you're awake." I turn my head and stare in confusion at the screen. I've never heard such a strange robotic voice before. Well, not outside of a movie.

"Please do not try to talk and stress yourself. I have every intention of answering your questions so no repeats from earlier, kay."

I don't know what to do so I just nod my head in comprehension.

"If you look on your stomach you'll see a keyboard. It's digital and I'm able to read exactly what you write on my screen. Please don't throw it. It's quite expensive."

I look down and sure enough there's a keyboard. I automatically rest my fingers in the home-row position, not wasting any time.

_My roommate?_

"I'm sorry but she is dead."

I flinch but I keep myself composed. I'll cry for her later. There's too much I have to know to become distraught with tears. He's answering my questions.

_Where am I?_

"You are in a ward in a highly guarded Operative building. There are roughly two hundred agents coming and going on a daily basis. It one of the many headquarters they work out of. This building in particular is solely dedicated in solving the case you are now involved in. Currently there are four agents on your floor. Don't worry. They're not watching through the window. I've ordered us to have some privacy."

I take a moment to let this sink in.

_You haven't caught him? That's why I'm here?_

"No, I have not caught him. The man who did this to you and your roommate, I'm sorry to say, has already done this to twenty three other women in the span of ten years. Up until this point we've never had a witness. You are very valuable in the continuation of this investigation."

_Ten years?_ I type. He doesn't respond to this and I know that it's not rational to blame him but how can they not have caught him by now.

_You're in charge? _

"Yes. My name is L. I'm a detective."

_Why not in person?_

"My identity is something I protect. I can't afford for others to know my face if I'm going to solve some of the world's most heinous crimes."

_I see. So you're pretty smart? Was my roommate killed in the same way that failed to kill me?_

"No."

He doesn't explain further and the silence is too much for me to ignore.

_Was she shot?_

"No. She was killed in a much more gruesome manner than you. Do you really want to know because I will tell you? But it's not an image I want you to see. You won't ever forget it."

I type yes, believing I can handle the description he'll give me. But he doesn't give me a description, he uploads a picture of the crime scene on the screen and it's all I can do to keep myself from screaming.

"She was cut up into pieces. Each body part nailed to the wall. I've never seen anything like this. It's disturbing."

_You sick fuck._ I type without thinking. _Why would you show me this?_

"As I said earlier, you are a valuable part in this ongoing investigation. You've survived a killer I haven't caught in ten years. I need you to be ready to look at even more photos than this. You said you could handle the image. Once you told me that, I decided I should expose you to what you'll be doing from this point on."

_If I refuse?_

"Do you really want a man like this still out there?"

I don't even type a response. He already knows how I feel. I lay there with my face turned away from the screen, keeping the tears back. I think of my roommate but immediately stop. I can't see her the way she was before the photo so I let the idea of her go altogether. I then start to think of my family and questions start swirling once again in my head.

_My family? _

"Your immediate family is fine. We'll be keeping a close watch on them but I don't calculate any threats being made on their lives. He doesn't work that way."

_Do they know I'm here?_ The silence prompts me to write the question again.

"No. No one knows where you are with the exception of myself, four other agents, and three medical staff."

_I don't understand. _

"As I said, you are our most valuable piece in the puzzle."

_I'm dead? Aren't I? _

I can remember lying there. I couldn't feel any pain but I could feel the blood chilling on my neck. I heard a camera and then I heard a voice. "Oh my God. She's alive. No, don't touch her. I need more photos."

_The world thinks I died in that room? _

"Killing your identity is the only way I can give you a high percentage in living out the rest of your life without threat. We went through great pains to make sure you were perceived as being dead to the world. You almost died as a result. My agents had the right idea in delaying your removal from the scene until it looked as if we were simply removing a corpse. For that I apologize"

He didn't sound sorry but what could I expect from a robot. I can't believe what I'm hearing. What this robotic voice is telling me. That my life no longer exists. I'm no longer me.

"This was necessary. I'm sorry."

I look around the room and easily spot a camera hidden in the corner. I bet the door is locked too. All of a sudden I don't buy this piece of the puzzle bit. No. Something else is going on. Why am I here? Why put a victim, here? And then it hits me again.

I rest my fingers back on the keys. I type each letter slowly but deliberately.

_Suspect _

He doesn't say anything. I picture him backing away from the computer screen, temporarily caught off guard. Or maybe he's waiting for me to make the next move. If I'm correct in my thinking and I am a suspect, then my reaction to my roommate's gruesome murder and my abrupt separation from my life were probably less than sympathetic.

Of course I wanted to cry but I've never been a crier. Especially in public. Besides, I feel a too sick to cry. The knots in my stomach won't stop twisting.

I brace my fingers once again and type the only words I can think of. It simplistic and perhaps uttered by every suspect he's ever encountered but it truly is my only defense.

_I didn't do it_

I slump back into the pillows with a feeling of defeat. I have no idea what they're basing their evidence on. Why they thought me capable of doing such a disgusting thing to another human being. Twenty three other human beings. But at this moment I don't really care. I almost want to be convicted and locked away. Everything I could possibly want to return to is no longer within my reach.

…

L watched her figure go lax on the screen and he immediately sensed that her dosage had been distributed by the timed machine. In truth, he was beyond words in determining what to make of the young woman he had placed under surveillance.

Every time he tried to place a percentage or a theory, she would type something and he would have to start all over. She was quick. He hadn't planned on her sensing that she was under suspicion. Of course now he had gotten the percentage down to zero. She was no longer a suspect. She was never the main suspect but he could never rule out the possibility that this could be a partner crime.

Especially this particular crime scene. He had good reason to suspect her of being capable. She was majoring in criminology. She was well spoken of from her professors and he had read all of her essays, mostly discussing various tactics in forensics. And then of course there was the clue, he as well as the other detectives, couldn't ignore, her fingers smeared with her roommates blood.

"Zero," L concluded.

"According to the notes, she has two agents that have been following her since the crime. Bumper and Clint." Rester flipped a page over in the recently acquired folder from L.

"L suggested I confront her face to face," Near commented, starring out of his window on the plane. "I wonder how he wants me to do this."

"You could do what he did with, Kira. Sense is also in college so taking a class of hers and monitoring her should be easy enough." Even as Rester said this he knew the situation was much more complicated. To confront Sense face to face would require a level of social skill that Near lacked severely. Near was twenty one and he couldn't even take a plane ride by himself, how in the world would approach someone like Sense?

She had been trained and educated throughout the years. Apparently L thought it necessary for her to properly skilled in fighting which put Rester even more confident in Near. One wrong move and the girl was liable to dislocate his jaw.

"Do you have any ideas as to what you will do, Near?"

"Yes. I'll do what you say. Take a class, monitor her, try to get close. Or,"

"Yes?"

"Or, I'll just confront her. Tell her who I am. That I am L's successor. Her guardian's successor. That should gain me some level of confidence."

"Except L hasn't told her he has passed. He made no plans to inform her of his death, which strikes me as odd. He knew the risks in chasing Kira."

"She wouldn't trust it." Near informed. "L knew that she would never trust any sort of message. L knew that confronting her, his successor, that would be the only way to reach her. I thought about masking myself as L through the computer but I don't think she would go for that."

Rester took a moment and then agreed. "You're right. In a way, she's also a successor of L's. Not overall but in the relevance of this case. She is your most vital clue."

"Yes. So I'll just have to approach her in a manner that won't alarm her."

Rester involuntarily smirked and kept his comments to himself.


End file.
